Gwen's Story
by Bella5
Summary: The long-awaited sequel to The Story of Lily is here! Ever wanted to know what happened to Gwen Watson on the night the Potter's died? This takes place fifteen years later, when a strange old man (Dumbledore) interrupts her (boring) life with a strange pr
1. Default Chapter

Thank you all SO much for being patient. I'll write a longer A/N before Chapter One (which, by the way, should be out very soon). I'm sorry this is so short – but it's just the prologue! :) Thanks to The Beta's (Snowlily, ReineDansante, Xaviera Xylira) I hope you enjoy this! 

Cheers!

**For clarification: This takes place the night of Halloween, 1981, right after Lily and James have been killed.**

**Gwen's Story Prologue**

****

_I still remember the world_

_From the eyes of a child_

_Slowly those feelings_

_Were clouded by what I know now_

_Where has my heart gone?_

_An uneven trade for the real world_

_I want to go back to_

_Believing in everything and knowing nothing at all_

_"Field of Innocence" - Evanescense_

Gwen drummed her fingers on the countertop, wondering where Sirius was. They were supposed to be having a Halloween celebration, and he had stepped out for a minute to "check on someone," and hadn't come back yet.

She sighed impatiently and made herself stand. She would just have her own party, then, since he was off doing his thing, she thought irritably. Thinking the first thing a party needed was music, she turned and flipped on the Wizarding Wireless and heard the familiar voice from her childhood – Kurt Bottlecap was still hosting the night shows.

_"- and expect clear skies tonight, with equally as clear skies tomorrow. This weather won't last long, however. Expect clouds to roll in around Wednesday. Now, onto a word from our sponsors…"_

Crossly Gwen flicked the Wireless off, wondering why no one played songs anymore, when someone knocked on the door. The young woman stiffened, and grabbed her wand from the table. She slowly made her way into the Wellington Mansion entrance hall and to the front door. She cast a spell that allowed her to see who was standing outside – it was Remus, in a dark cloak, with only his thin, light hair visible. 

Her brow creased, but she pocketed her wand. Remus never came by to see them…She opened the door curiously. "Hello, Remus."

Remus looked up blearily and Gwen gasped. His face was twisted with anguish and sorrow, and he stumbled into the house. 

"Remus, what's wrong?! Tell me, please! Is it Sirius? He hasn't come back yet! What's wrong?!"

Remus shook his head as if he was in denial, and Gwen felt the breath leave her body. "No," she whispered. "Oh, no, oh, no…"

"Lily and James," Remus croaked, still disbelieving. "Lily and James, Gwen…The house…"

Gwen's heart was thumping so hard against her ribcage she thought it would explode. "Remus! What about the house?!" she screeched, hysteria welling up in her uncontrollably. Tears came to her eyes and her hands began to shake, imagining horrible things. She took his hands and wrung them. "Remus!"

He looked up at her as if seeing her for the first time. "They're dead, Gwen, they're dead."

"No," she whispered, her heart suddenly stopping, dropping his hands, her eyes sliding out of focus. "No…"

"He came tonight. I saw the house and I saw them. They're gone. Voldemort too."

Her voice wouldn't work, and even if it had, she wouldn't have known what to say. She sat down right where she was, and gripped her knees. Her mind had gone completely numb, like when she found her parents were dead...But somehow, somehow this was magnified, horribly magnified…

"Gwen, do you understand what this means?" Remus asked quietly and urgently, wiping his face.

Gwen looked up into his gray eyes, saying nothing. She felt nothing anymore. Nothing else mattered – her sister was gone…

"Sirius, Gwen, Sirius – think." 

Her mind, still numb, wasn't processing. "What about him?" she croaked. Where the hell was he? He should be there; he should _be_ there with her!

"Gwen, you must – you must remember…" his voice died out, and he stared down at his hands. "He – he was their Secret-Keeper."

Gwen fell backwards, unconscious before she hit the floor.

~*~*~*~*

Sunlight…Gwen moaned as rays of light awoke her from her slumber. She was about to yell at Sirius to shut the blinds, when she became aware of the fact that she wasn't in her bed. She was on her couch.

And then, then, the memories of the previous evening came flooding back to her, hitting her hard and leaving her breathless and choking. She didn't know how long she sat there, rocking back and forth, crying harder than she believed possible…Harry, Lily, James…They were all gone, all gone – and Sirius…Sirius had betrayed them! But Voldemort was gone, gone for good…Then surely, there was no need for her to be in this world, was there? No need for her to stay here and help with the Order when their goal of vanquishing the Dark Lord was realized?

She stood up so suddenly her vision went black and she swayed in dizziness – but she stumbled forward, rubbing her eyes, not bothering to wipe the fluid off her face. One thought was imprinted in her mind – _get away, get away, get away. _She raced through the house into the master bedroom, praying Sirius wasn't home and wouldn't come home…Who knew what he would do if he still was running around at large…

Her mind was numb as she threw clothes and belongings into a bag, and grabbed her cloak. She wasn't even aware that she was sobbing, that her tears were soaking her robes. She grabbed her cloak, shrunk the bag, stuck it into her pocket, and raced into the foyer, her wand in front of her, ready to fire at anything that moved. She now was having trouble seeing her way through her tears, but made it somehow to the front door. She flung it open, and then, Gwendolyn Elizabeth Watson did something she had never done before:

Ran.   

~*~*~*~

Second A/N: Just because I'm me, I want to gently point out to those of you who perhaps didn't understand what I meant – "ran" is not literal. I'm sure you all got that, just wanted to clarify…

Ahem. I'll be going now.


	2. Chapter One

A/N: Well, here we go again – off on another of Bella's epics! This is the one I promised you all…It follows Gwennie dearest through Harry's sixth year (if you hadn't guessed), and it WILL be in accordance to Canon. She was a member of the Order back in the day, she knows who the Death Eaters all mentioned in Book V (Bellatrix, for instance) are, etc. My excuse for everyone thinking that Lily's powers are the reason Voldemort came after them is that was an educated guess, before Trelawny predicted the Prophecy. 

Yes, there are many changes, but the main thing is – Gwen is still Gwen. And back with a vengeance. 

Thanks to my spectacular beta's, Snowlily, ReineDansante, and Xavi (who I'm adding to the other delightful two officially – she's always really been a beta :)), without whom I would never have gotten through SoL and wouldn't even be writing this at the moment. 

**Gwen's Story**

**__**

_I tried to forget you   
But you tied bells to your name  
They jingled every time I thought of you  
Without shame  
I tried to be unlovable   
Why couldn't you do the same?_

_-Jewel's "Love Me, Just Leave Me Alone"****_

Gwen Watson squinted and blinked as she opened her eyes, the sun streaming in and nearly blinding her. Instead of being in her bed, she realized she was sprawled out on her couch in the living room of her flat, her neck twisted uncomfortably – but it didn't matter, surely. It was a Saturday, otherwise she wouldn't have fallen asleep on the couch – she was much too responsible to do that on a work night. 

It took her perhaps five seconds to realize that it _wasn't_ a Saturday; it actually was a Thursday, and, by the looks of the clock on the wall, she had ten minutes to get to work – to work, and to a very important partner meeting.

She bolted upright, a pencil and a pad of paper tumbling to the floor in the process. She looked in horror at the half-finished gown drawing on the paper – she must have fallen asleep before she could finish it last night!

Gwen hesitated for a moment, trying to decide – should she get dressed or finish her drawing? In the end, her girl-ness kicked in and she raced into her bedroom, frantically digging through the wardrobe. She grabbed the nearest business suit – it happened to be a pants suit, and, despite the fact that it was August, she put it on anyway and raced into the bathroom. To her horror, all of yesterday's makeup was still on – but definitely not where it should have been. Her eye makeup seemed to be everywhere but her eye…And her breath! It could wake the dead!

In three minutes flat she managed to rub the remains of makeup into place and brush her teeth. She slid on a pair of pumps, grabbed her portfolio, and (doing her best to ignore the sinking feeling of dread in her stomach) grabbed the pad of paper and pencil before flying out the door and into the lift. Down the lift, past the lobby, through the glass doors, and stopped on the curb, desperately trying to flag down a cab.

When one finally appeared, she jumped in, slammed the door, and (at the expense of sounding incredibly corny and clichéd) told the driver to "step on it".

Frantically Gwen tried to draw in the rest of her gown. Just a line here…another one there…

"Aah!" she exclaimed, her pencil jumping across the page as the cab hit a pothole. "Could you be more careful?!" she snapped at the driver. 

He harrumphed in response, and Gwen concentrated again on the drawing in front of her. She was about to attempt to fix it, when the car screeched to a halt. Gwen was opening her mouth to snap again at the driver, when she realized that they had arrived at their destination. She forced the money into his hand and stepped out, clutching tightly to her belongings. As she stared up at the tall, imposing building before her, she realized she had never really thought about how scary and – and _large_ the clothing corporation she worked for was. Fighting down the impulse to bolt and spend the day in the nearby coffee shop, Gwen took a deep breath and walked inside.

~*~*~*~*

"Gwen?"

"Umph," Gwen mumbled, jerking awake. She looked around blearily at the people sitting at the long, polished table; they were all staring at her. "I'm sorry," she said, struggling to sit up, pushing her black hair out of her face. She cleared her throat, a sinking feeling in her stomach. She had fallen asleep right in the middle of the meeting – and she had been doing so well staying awake! "Erm, must have just – just dropped off for a moment…"

Her boss, Helena Friedericks, was looking nothing short of murderous.

"This is the second time this week you've _just dropped off_ in the middle of a meeting!" she shouted, standing up. Gwen was now fully awake, her blue eyes wide and slightly frightened.

"Might I remind you that if we don't close this partnership we are most certainly going _down? You can find work again, surely, but not all of us are as successful as you, Ms. Watson! And might I remind you again that it is only because of _me_ you are so successful?"_

It was true; Gwen most certainly couldn't deny it. Helena had taken a gamble several years back and made Gwen a partner in their company (a very fine, posh boutique chain that carried only very fine, posh gowns and other clothing), propelling her into international fame for her gift in clothing design. Gwen had calls from everywhere around the globe asking her to design gowns of all sorts for movie premieres, weddings, and other numerous functions that the rich and famous attended.

When Gwen didn't reply, Helena went on. "I wonder what you've been up to that has caused you to fall asleep like this! Honestly, Gwen, you're getting sloppy! You've missed eight deadlines in the past two months! And that gown you turned in this morning – even Cher wouldn't wear it!"

"I'm not getting sloppy," Gwen protested weakly, knowing it was a lie. The truth was, she had begun to lose her passion for designing gowns, and, as a result, had started to pull all-nighters to meet the deadlines for her design ideas. It was as though her creative well, which had always instantly put itself into motion when she had asked it to, was finally drying up.

"Go home, Gwen," Helena said finally, her voice lower, but still hard. "Get some sleep. I want you to seriously consider if this company is still right for you. I won't deny the profits you make for us – but I can't keep you on if you don't start shaping up."

Gwen swallowed, willing herself to keep her calm as she stood up, gathered her papers, shoved them into her portfolio, and walked out of the room without looking back. No one said a word to her the whole time. She snapped at her secretary to go home on the way to the lifts, and, when she arrived into the sophisticated lobby downstairs, immediately left without chatting to the doorman like she usually did. Her head was spinning as she tried to hail a taxi; was she really _that close to losing her job? It was true, though; she hadn't worried about missing deadlines or becoming sloppy too much because she had never thought that Helena would actually fire her. But now, she wasn't so sure…_

"But I can't help it!" she found herself bursting out in frustration. A woman gave her a strange look as she passed, and Gwen fought the urge to make a rude gesture at her in return. _I can't help it, she continued (this time inside her head), _that I'm not feeling inspired anymore! What does she expect me to do? She doesn't understand how it feels – she's never designed a gown in her life, all she does is sit up in her office and count her money…__

_Well, maybe that was a little harsh_, Gwen reasoned as she climbed into a cab. She told the cabbie where to go, thinking, _But_ still, she hasn't designed a gown in a long time. She has _me__ do all the dirty work._

These angry thoughts sustained Gwen the rest of the way home and, when she finally arrived back at the nice, tall building where she lived, she thrust money at the cabbie and slammed the door after she was out. Half a second later, as the cab roared away from the pavement, Gwen realized she had left her portfolio in the backseat. 

"Great! Just wonderful!" she exclaimed irritably, lifting her hands up to the heavens in exasperation, quite aware of more stares she was attracting as she kicked a nearby rubbish bin. She stalked into the apartment building and straight to the lifts, thinking of how she was going to have to ring the cab company and tell them about her portfolio…

"Although, this is probably good," she fumed, watching the numbers on the lift get higher as they rose farther up, "seeing as how I'm _getting sloppy_…"

She got off on level fourteen, turned to the right, and was met with the sight of two doors. Her flat was the one on the left, and she pulled her key out of her handbag, jammed it into the door, and pushed it open. She promptly kicked off her spiked heels in the small entrance hall and strode in stocking feet to her bedroom, tossing her handbag on the floor as she went. She was in such a state of temper that she failed to notice a tall, pointed, blue hat sitting on the table next to the door. 

When Gwen emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later, a bit happier now that she was (back) in her sweatpants and tee-shirt, she still failed to notice the blue hat as she walked down the hall and into the kitchen for a snack. 

It took her perhaps thirty seconds once inside the kitchen to realize she wasn't alone. Slowly she closed the refrigerator, having just seen something blue and clearly sitting at her table out of the corner of her eye. Her heart was pounding, but she still was able to think – that ability had always been a gift, she believed. Slowly she opened the drawer nearest to her and searched around in it, pretending not to have noticed the person sitting there. He or she obviously didn't think she had spotted them yet, and wasn't making any sudden movements…Her eyes widened in exasperation as she realized what drawer it was. Hot pads, spatulas, and measuring cups. Of _course._

Still, a spatula was better than nothing. She grabbed the biggest one slowly, clutching the cool metal, and in one fluid movement, turned around and shouted, "Don't move!"

The spatula narrowly missed her toe as it fell to the floor.

Gentle chuckling was coming from the mass of blue sitting at her table. Gwen was frozen, staring at it in shock, one numb thought entering her brain: _It can't be…_

The mass of blue was actually a very old man, with a long, crooked nose, shining silver beard and hair, and twinkling blue eyes. He would have looked grandfatherly, had it not been for the blue dress-type clothing he was in – no grandfather I know would wear something like that. It looked magical, decorated in small, intricate silver stars and planets that looked like they were moving…

"Hello, Gwen," the man said, still chuckling, apparently finding the woman's shock comical.

For a moment, Gwen, a usually very articulate (sometimes too much so) and put-together person, was able only to stutter and gasp. "You – but – I – he – more – out – spatula-"

"It's very good to see you too," the old man said, smiling, but obviously very sincere. "It has been far too long."

"Dumbledore!" Gwen finally was able to burst, breathless.

"Come and sit, Gwen," the man, Dumbledore, said, standing up and offering Gwen his chair. She stayed where she was, still in shock.

"How did you…Why…?"

"All of that I will answer, but I do think you should sit down first," Dumbledore said firmly. 

Gwen felt oddly as though she had lost twenty five years and was back in school again as she followed the old man's advice and took a seat, still staring at him. Her mind was whirling.

"How did you find me?" she blurted, saying the first thing that came to her mind.

Dumbledore was busy settling down in the seat opposite her, but when she asked this, he looked up. "I have always known where you were," he said simply.

"You have?" she said, flabbergasted. "But I – I've lived everywhere!"

"I try to keep tabs on all of my old students," said Dumbledore elusively, "especially those who were members of the Order." 

The Order…

Memories…

"Why are you here?" she blurted again.

Dumbledore looked at her intently. "I would have thought that was obvious, Gwen." When he was met with silence, he said, "Why, to bring you back, of course."

"To _bring me __back?" Gwen repeated, her voice layered with anger. Now, we must take into account before we judge poor Gwen – she had been behaving very reasonably for a woman whose home had just been broken into. This statement, however, seemed to be the final straw._

"Fifteen years, Dumbledore! _Fifteen years_! And you want me back _now?! Well, let me tell __you something – I don't __want to go back! I ran away for a __reason, you know!"_

"Yes, I am quite aware of the fact," Dumbledore said. He hadn't batted an eyelash during Gwen's outburst – he seemed to have thought this would happen. "And you are very right, it has been fifteen years, why now? This can be answered very simply – Lord Voldemort is back."

All anger seemed to melt off of Gwen – anger, along with every other emotion, that is. She sat there, her mouth open, gaping at Dumbledore, shock reverberating through her like a drum.

"Back?"

"Yes, indeed. He was actually never killed, Gwen."

"Never…"

Dumbledore held her gaze steadily, and began speaking in low tones. _His eyes are darker than mine_, Gwen found her wandering mind thinking. She had always fancied that her eyes were the same color as Dumbledore's, but now she realized – hers were icier, Dumbledore's warmer.

"Gwen, I would prefer for you to pay attention," Dumbledore lightly, smiling still. She jerked out of her thoughts.

"Sorry, Professor," she said automatically. A hand clapped to her mouth instantly. She had just sounded eleven again…What was happening to her brain?

Dumbledore gave her a small smile. "Now, as I was saying – Voldemort was never killed. When you left, which was the morning after, I believe, on All Saint's Day…" 

Gwen nodded. She didn't want to hear this, didn't want to hear this…She wasn't going back, no matter what. 

"And before you make your decision, I would appreciate you having an open mind," he said, still kindly. Now Gwen really felt eleven again. She hung her head - something she hadn't done in a very long time. "I'm listening, Dumbledore."

"Albus."

Gwen looked up, momentarily surprised. "Albus."

"Very good. Where was I? Oh, yes. Now, on that night when the Potters' died – I assume you heard that they all died?"

Gwen's brow creased in confusion, and she nodded slowly. They had…hadn't they? A small bubble of hope welled up in her chest. Surely…

"They did not all die. Harry, the boy, lived."

Gwen couldn't take too many more shocks like this.

"He _lived?" she choked._

"Oh yes. Lily died to save him. Her love shielded him from Voldemort. The curse rebound upon Voldemort when he turned his wand to kill Harry – the boy escaped with nothing more than a scar. An interesting scar, but a scar nonetheless."

"He's alive…" Gwen said, her eyes sliding out of focus. Her mind couldn't process… "All these years, Dumbledore. All these years, I thought-" her voice hitched.

"There are other things you undoubtedly thought as well that are incorrect. You do know that Sirius Black was their Secret-Keeper?"

A sharp pain pierced her chest. "Yes," she whispered. _Oh, Sirius…_

"This is incorrect."

"What?" she cried, her head snapping up. "_What?"_

"He was indeed their Secret-Keeper, but not for very long. He persuaded Lily and James to change to someone less obvious – Peter Pettigrew."

"Peter?" Gwen questioned slowly. "But – no…"

"I am afraid so. Peter was a follower of Voldemort, and betrayed their position on that night."

"I – I can't…" Gwen shook her head. "I wasn't overly fond of him, but…Peter? A – a Death Eater? Profess - Albus, it's just…just ludicrous…Peter wouldn't hurt a _fly-"_

"Do you think Sirius being a Death Eater is more plausible?"

"Well, no…but Peter…" Her head was whirling even quicker now, but one thought stuck out more than the rest: Sirius was innocent, Sirius didn't do anything…

"Sirius, Dumbledore – he's innocent?" 

Dumbledore bowed his head, the twinkle in his eyes momentarily extinguished. "I am afraid it isn't that simple," he said heavily. The smile faded from Gwen's face and she felt as though a leaden brick had dropped into her stomach. "It's not?" she whispered.

"No. Sirius was framed for it and sent to Azkaban. He remained in the prison for twelve years, before he-"

"He's dead, then?" Gwen asked, all glimmers of hope doused. For one moment – for one blessed moment…She had thought…

"-managed to escape," Dumbledore finished.

Her head jerked up again, scarcely willing to believe her ears. "Escape?"

"Yes. He was intent upon avenging Lily and James and wanted to kill Peter, who was posing as a pet rat at Hogwarts, and, in his Animagus state, escaped from Azkaban. Once at Hogwarts, he met Harry, convinced him of his innocence…But, sadly, Peter escaped before he could be disposed of or used to prove to the Ministry Sirius's innocence. Sirius had to escape from Hogwarts – but this time with a pen pal, reunited with Harry. He managed to lie low for a year – Harry's fourth year – but then came back to the castle when disaster struck. That year – this time one year ago – Voldemort was restored to his body. He was a mere ghost of himself for almost fourteen years and, using a spell he developed himself, was reinstated into his old body. Harry witnessed it. Harry took part in it."

"How?" Gwen asked, her voice barely a whisper. She was having trouble comprehending everything…

"That is a very long story, something I do not quite have time for right now, sadly." Dumbledore took a large watch out of a pocket inside his robes and glanced at it, before putting it back. "Gwen, the main point of this is – Voldemort has returned, and I need you back in our world. Not only to help in the Order, but in Hogwarts as well. I am offering you the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

Gwen's face clouded over. How _dare_ he have the audacity to come here out of the blue and ask her to drop her life – how _dare that man! She was about to tell him this, and indeed opened her mouth to do so, but he put his hand up._

"I understand that you are undoubtedly upset with me," he said patiently, "but before you speak, think. You are not safe now that Voldemort is back – no one is. By taking up this position and returning, you would be helping a very worthy cause, I can assure you." The ghost of an amused smile lit his lips, before he continued. "You haven't used magic in a long time, I understand, but you still itch for it."

Gwen's mouth dropped – she realized in that moment her fingers missed her wand, and, more importantly, her _heart_ missed it…

"This job is as any other job, of course, paying, and you will have a place to stay. But, what I happen to think is the most important and attractive part of this deal – Harry."

That's all he needed to say. Gwen's godson. She owed it to him, owed it to Lily and James, owed it to the world…

"I am sure you will find him to be a most satisfactory pupil," Dumbledore was saying, the twinkle back fully in his eyes. "His best class happens to be Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Why…" Gwen stopped and cleared her throat; tears were threatening to engulf her. She wiped at her eyes. "Why do you not already have a Defense teacher?"

Dumbledore kept smiling. "I am afraid that your predecessor discovered in the end that teaching was not the best thing for her…But alas, that is another story!" He stood up in a swish of fabric. "Now, I am afraid I must be off. I will expect you at Hogwarts over the next week, yes?"

"But – wait! I have some bloody questions!" Gwen burst, her temper flaring. "I'm not agreeing to anything!"

"Please, ask, then," Dumbledore said, graciously inclining his head at her. 

"Well – I – where is Harry? Now?"

"Staying with the Weasley family. Gwen, really, I must go-"

"You'll bloody well wait if you want me to work for you!" Gwen yelled, and Dumbledore coughed slightly, hiding a smile. "Now, I've never taught before, does that matter?"

"Most of the teachers I hire have no previous experience."

"Right, okay, then – are you going to tell Harry about me? _If_ I take the job, that is?"

Dumbledore looked at her carefully. "I think he would rather hear it from you, Gwen."

"Ah, I was afraid of that…" Gwen trailed off. She was thinking hard. Oh, how she would relish ringing Helena and telling her she was quitting her job…As she was imagining this, a sharp tingle shot through her right arm quite unexpectedly. She cried out in alarm, looking down at it. The tingle felt magical…As she stared at her arm, transfixed, a thought, which was becoming clearer and clearer very steadily, threatened to take her over. Harry…Harry…She would get to be with him…Be the mother he never had…And Sirius…

"If I was to take this job," she said carefully, not looking at Dumbledore, "would I be able to see Sirius often? And – and is…Is Remus…?"

Dumbledore heaved an enormous sigh. "Remus is fine. But, Gwen – this is the part I didn't get to tell you earlier...Sirius was killed, just a few months ago."

Gwen felt as though she had been punched in the stomach. For fifteen years she hadn't cared about him, hadn't cared because she believed he had sold Lily and James to Voldemort…But then when she had thought he was still alive, she had dared to hope that maybe, just maybe, they could pick up where they left off… She was still in love with him, and always was, even when she told herself she shouldn't be…

Who was she kidding? She couldn't take this job, she probably didn't even know which side of the wand was which anymore.

"I can't, Dumbledore," Gwen said, her voice unsteady, staring down at the table. "I – I just can't."

"Harry loved Sirius, Gwen," Dumbledore said gently, quietly. Gwen had a sudden urge to block her ears, this was too painful. "And Voldemort played on that love to lure Harry to him. Harry lost Sirius and blames himself for that, even though it most certainly was not his fault…"

Gwen met his eyes finally. He was looking older and sadder than she had ever seen him, watching something only he could see. For some reason, she detected that Dumbledore blamed himself for Sirius's death – but she wasn't going to ask him about it.

"Sirius was the only parent Harry ever knew," he continued. "I put him with his aunt and uncle because I knew he would be safe there for the first eleven years of his life – but they, I am afraid to say, treated him very poorly. In Sirius Harry found the father he had missed, the parent he had missed. And now, he's gone. This, Gwen, is the main reason I have come to you now. He needs you."

Tears were sliding down Gwen's cheeks as she studied her hands. Dumbledore's words seemed to echo in her brain…She closed her eyes, and slowly, unbidden, an image of a woman with dark red hair and sparkling green eyes materialized on her eyelids. For Lily…

_He's got me, then_, Gwen thought to herself resignedly as she took a deep breath and wiped her tears away. _Hook, line, and sinker._

"Alright," she whispered, and looked up into Dumbledore's old, wizened face. "I'll do it."

A full-fledged smile broke out. "Excellent! Excellent, excellent. Minerva will be quite pleased to have another Gryffindor around, I daresay! Now, if you will excuse me, I must go to a meeting at the headquarters…I would take you with me, of course, but I am sure you have some arrangements to make…"

Gwen hesitated. "Actually…I can always see to those later, if…"

"Thank you for offering, but I think this meeting would be a bit too much for you. I know you wish to see everyone, but I assure you, you will be seeing plenty of us all!"

Gwen nodded and cleared her throat. "You're probably right, Dum – Albus. But, could you do something for me before you go?"

His eyes twinkled. "Of course."

"I – um, well, I'm not _exactly sure where my wand is…Do you suppose you could…?" She twirled her finger, and he smiled, taking out a long, smooth, polished stick._

"_Accio__ wand!"_

For a moment, Gwen feared her wand really and truly was lost; they both stood in complete silence for a moment, and Gwen was about to heave a sigh and go back on her agreement, when a crashing noise met her ears. She turned around and walked out of the kitchen, peering down the hall. In that second, a long, thin stick came zooming around the corner from her bedroom, and she had just enough time to duck as it flew into the kitchen and straight into Dumbledore's outstretched hand. He laughed merrily as Gwen stood up and turned around (feeling slightly disgruntled) and handed the wand to her. 

The tingling sensation returned again, filling Gwen's heart – she felt as though she were eleven again, standing in Ollivander's shop, holding her wand for the first time –

"_Orchideus__!" Gwen cried, yelling out the first spell that came to mind. A bunch of brightly colored flowers erupted from the tip of her wand, falling onto the floor before her in a haze of color. Dumbledore clapped, laughing merrily still. _

"Bravo, my dear, bravo," he said, beaming. "Your magic is perfectly in tact. However, I do recommend reviewing a few of the basics – to avoid embarrassment, of course."

Gwen grinned – really grinned – looking admiringly at her wand. It still worked! After fifteen years! She felt as though part of her brain that had been locked up and buried for a decade and a half suddenly came into the light; spells, hexes, curses, charms that she hadn't thought of were appearing in her mind at an alarming rate.

And this is where the old man left her, beaming at her wand, telling her he would hope to see her at Hogwarts in a few days. She nodded wordlessly to him, eternally grateful – _how had she gone so long without half of her arm? Half of her life?_

He fetched his hat, and the second he left (which was in a rather abrupt manner, by ways of Apparition – _Oh, I need to practice that! thought Gwen), she picked up the telephone, dialed her office (still feeling rather breathless) and asked to speak to Mrs. Friedericks._

"Hello?"

"Hello, Helena?"

"Gwen, is that you?"

Despite all of her brave thoughts, Gwen felt herself becoming nervous. This was it; if she quit her job, she couldn't turn back – _wouldn't_ turn back – to being a Muggle.

"Gwen?"

"Erm, yes. Look, Helena, I want to talk about-"

"Oh Gwen, I'm so sorry about losing my temper. It was horrible of me – I'm just going through a lot of pressure at home, and I let my anger loose on you. You're a fantastic designer, and I exaggerated about the Cher thing…Can you ever forgive me?"

Gwen was very taken aback. She had only heard Helena give an apology…Well, never. Her mind was whizzing again, and she walked over towards the table to sit down – only to promptly slip and fall on the bunch of flowers, landing painfully on her backside with a bang.

"Uuugghhh," she moaned in pain, wincing as she tried to sit up.

"Gwen, are you alright?"

Helena's voice was concerned – another first, Gwen thought as she managed to raise herself up. "Gwen, anyway, back to what I was saying – to close this deal, we really need you, I couldn't possibly do anything…Gwen, are you listening?"

But Gwen wasn't. She was instead staring at a flower right next to her, one that was still in pristine condition because she hadn't fallen and smashed it, unlike the rest – a lily.

Gwen gulped, reaching out tentative fingers to touch the white, perfect petal. It felt like silk.

"Gwen? Hello?"

"Yes, Helena?" said Gwen, snapping out of her reverie and standing up, clutching the flower to her chest. She took a deep breath, and then said firmly, "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to leave you."

~*~*~*~*

The first owl she received gave Gwen quite a fright. She was sitting in her kitchen, eating her dinner and reading a fashion magazine, when she heard something tapping at the windows behind her.

Her brow furrowed as she turned around – it was dark, so, from her point, she could see nothing. She turned back to her magazine and pasta when the tapping noise sounded again, and it definitely was coming from the windows behind her. Brow furrowed again, she got up off her chair and around the counter, into her living room. She peered out the windows, but couldn't see much because the lights of her flat reflected in the glass, obscuring anything on the outside. She pressed her face to the glass, cupping it with her hands – when something big and furry tapped right at her face. She shrieked and fell backwards in alarm, tripping over the coffee table behind her and falling rather ungracefully into an armchair nearby.

Gwen sat in the chair for a moment, panting, trying to get her heart rate back to normal, as the tapping continued. She had, by now, of course realized that the furry something was an owl, and, given her knowledge of the wizarding world, that owl was probably carrying a letter for her. Since her modern flat didn't allow the big front windows to open, she motioned for the owl to follow her as she went into the dining room and opened the sliding doors of her terrace. The owl swooped in and gratefully landed on the polished wooden table – a table that Gwen was, regrettably, having to leave behind with her flat because she didn't have any use for it at all at Hogwarts.

She took the letter from the owl's beak professionally, as if she had actually been doing this for the last fifteen years, noticing with curiosity that it was quite heavy. She offered her hand to the creature, and it hopped onto her extended finger. She carefully carried it into the kitchen, where she deposited it and the envelope onto the small table there. Before reading the message, however, she made sure to get a bowl of water for the animal, and, when the owl had been seen to, Gwen sat down in front of the forgotten plate of pasta (to which the owl was now helping itself to) and opened the envelope. She took out a folded piece of parchment and felt around inside, her hand closing on something small and metallic. It was a key – a tiny, silver key with a small, scarlet tassel attached to it. She turned it over in her hand, figuring that it was the key to her rooms or something, and placed it carefully on the table. She then picked up the sheet of parchment and in neat, measured handwriting was the following message:

_Dear Miss Watson,_

_          I was indeed delighted to learn that you accepted the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor from Albus. It is my hope that you will enjoy your year at the school and come to appreciate everything in it, as you undoubtedly did during your own period as a student here. I have enclosed the key to your personal apartments, which lead off of your office. Also, if you would be so kind as to consider your course schedule, and then give me a title of the book you would like to teach out of as soon as possible? And, when you arrive at Hogwarts, I would be delighted if you would come and have a bit of tea with me – certainly you remember where my office is located. Once again, as soon as possible with the book title, please._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Gwen found herself chuckling as she scanned the letter. "Old Minnie, hasn't changed a bit."

The owl, which was now finished picking apart Gwen's spaghetti, gave an indignant hoot. Gwen looked up at it, still smiling, and said, "Well, it's true." 

The owl pierced her with a look and took flight from the table. Gwen watched it soar gracefully out of the open terrace door and into the dark night. 

She looked back down at the letter, this time frowning slightly as she re-read it. _…title of the book you would like to teach out of…_

She grimaced. How was she supposed to know what book she wanted to teach out of? Did she just go browse the magical book shop and find one that sounded good? Or…Did she have a list to choose from?

Gwen decided to ponder this later – it was too late, and she was planning to make her big move tomorrow. Well, it wasn't actually going to be too big, as all of her things fitted nicely into her bag with the help of the Shrinking Spell. Yep, all she had to do tomorrow was shrink the sheets and few toiletry items that she would be using in the morning, and she would be set. 

Gwen stood up and stretched, Banished the now empty plate of pasta and bowl of water to the sink where she would deal with it the next day, closed and locked the open terrace door from her spot in the kitchen, and, with a satisfied feeling in her stomach, Disapparated from the kitchen, only to Apparate seconds later in her bathroom. She had been practicing her Apparition (as well as other skills) since Dumbledore had come to visit two days ago. She felt she finally had gotten back into the swing of things, and was thoroughly confident about her abilities.

She hadn't, however, given a moment's thought to planning her lessons. Dear, that had to be a tedious job, planning out every single day for seven different classes for a whole year…

Gwen's head started spinning uncomfortably as she considered this. But no, surely there was an easier way. There had to be. She would just talk to dear old Minnie tomorrow about it. And, with comforting thoughts that this time the next morning she would be back at Hogwarts, surrounded by magic and old friends, Gwen drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face.


End file.
